The Divine Conspiracy
by LordAnarchy666
Summary: Something went wrong in the Department of Mysteries, something went very wrong. Harry has discovered much more than monsters in the dusty rooms of the labyrinth, and much, much, more than he bargained for. But is the cost of victory too much for his soul? How will he cope when his very humanity is in danger?


Faster and faster Harry ran, not daring to look back, afraid of what he would see. He raced past the rows of prophecy orbs, not caring in the slightest if they got damaged. The orbs were the only source of light, giving off an ethereal glow that was just bright enough for him to see the floor.

Darkness lurked on the edges of his vision where the glow didn't quite reach, and where the Death Eater's lurked. He dared not look for fear of faltering as he rushed towards the safety of the corridor. His friends were hot on his tail, and would occasionally send out random blasts behind them, hoping to catch the enemy off guard.

It was not a good situation to be in. Being trapped and ambushed usually isn't. He was frightened, but he wouldn't let that show. His friends were depending on him, and he'd be damned if they got hurt on his account.

They made it through the door in one piece, and they all spelled it shut and barricaded it as quickly as they could. Their rudimentary locking charms wouldn't last for long, but it's all they knew. Looking around, Harry noticed that the room was one they had not seen before. On one side there was a large tank with a winged lizard or something, and on the other, there was some sort of extremely miniature horse. The thing couldn't have been more than six inches tall.

"It's a Hipparion," Luna said from behind him. She seemed completely unperturbed by the recent events. "Such a majestic creature... It's a shame they are nearly extinct."

It didn't look very majestic to Harry. It was ugly, and small, and looked like a turd with legs. Before he could think too much on it, there was a large bang on the door, causing all the students to jump. The door started to rattle dangerously, an ominous sign. Their schoolyard charms would not last long.

"Come on, we have to get out of here!" Harry shouted. Ron immediately nodded and fell in line behind Harry, with the rest quickly following. Harry smiled in approval, grim the situation may be.

They all rushed through the next door, and not bothering to look at that room, they ran through that as well, before entering another blind corridor and choosing a random direction to go in. They were completely disoriented, and there was no clear direction on which way the circular room from which they entered was.

The prophecy orb burdened Harry down as they ran; the potential knowledge of what it held was frightening. He had already figured out what the initials meant, as it was the same person who made the only prophecy he had ever heard. If that wasn't an ominous sign, he didn't know what was.

From out in front of them the wall exploded, nearly taking out the whole party with rubble. Several Death Eaters poured out from the makeshift door like oil on water, the edges of their robes blending in with the blackness. Harry's reaction time was quick as he raised a shield and dove through the nearest door. His friends followed right behind him, covering their escape with spells.

Harry slammed the door shut but it only stayed that way for a scant second before it disintegrated in a shower of splinters. Harry had to toss himself on the ground once more as a barrage of hexes soared over him and smashed into a string of shelves. His forearms were getting quite sore from the constant maneuvering.

The room was very dusty, and at first glance the shelves just seemed full of miscellaneous tat. It was some sort of storage room, but Harry didn't have time to contemplate that as a destructive curse soared over his head and pulverize a black stone block. A second slower and he his head would have met the same fate. His friends started banishing the debris at the entrance hoping that the erratic nature of their casting would cause some damage, and it bought Harry enough time to jump and roll over the stone block, and just in time to dodge the sickly green of the Killing Curse.

He hunkered down for a few seconds, just long enough to cover his friends, and to be interested by a shiny glint on the ground. Crawling over to the object, Harry noticed it was a coin, but it was like no coin he had ever seen before. It was quite old, worn and tarnished, and was probably made of silver. It was as foreign to him as wizard money was to a muggle. On one side was the face of a woman, vaguely, and on the other was a bunch of scratches. It was hard to tell if it was a symbol of some sort, or if it was just random wear, but it was a bit too precise to be natural.

Harry didn't know why he did it, but he pocketed it. It was not very interesting, but it was sitting in a dusty old room in the Department of Mysteries, so that in itself made it more interesting, even in the heat of battle.

Taking the time to transfigure a few small animals for a distraction, Harry waved to his friends to follow him as he spotted another door leading out the back. They were more than happy to find a way out of that assault.

The door led them to another one of the seemingly infinite corridors in the Labyrinth of Mysteries. It was slightly odd as to how they didn't run across a single Ministry worker there, but that was the least of Harry's concerns in his mind.

Harry was just happy to not immediately hear the sounds of Death Eaters approaching, and any reprieve was very welcome for him and his friends, but the lull in battle only put him on edge. Waiting around for something bad to happen was not good for this nerves.

Eventually, they stumbled into a room with that sloped down with a plinth in the middle, on which an archway stood. The archway had a veil on it that rippled in some nonexistent wind, and just looking at it made Harry uneasy. The room vaguely reminded Harry of the secret third floor corridor chamber where he battled Quirrell, almost like an amphitheatre.

Harry could have sworn he heard voices coming from the veil, not whispers, but as if they were directly in his head. "Do you hear that?" Harry asked his friends. Other than that, the room was eerily quiet, and there was no obvious source of the ambient light.

"Hear what, Harry?" Hermione responded while looking all around, clearly paranoid. "There's nothing there."

Harry frowned, but then he quickly turned around as a new voice appeared. "Awww, is ickle baby Potter hearing voices? You should listen to the Mudblood."

A growl escaped from Harry's throat as he eyed the wand pointing at Hermione's temple. "Lestrange," he said simply. There was no mistaking her from the pictures he had seen of her, although she had definitely seen better days. He had to calm his mind to prevent himself from doing something stupid, like charging in and using his fists. He didn't take kindly to anyone pointing a wand at his friend.

Then, before anyone else could even think about moving, several more Death Eaters appeared, quickly subduing his friends and holding them hostage. It happened in a blink of an eye, and Harry knew he'd been had.

One of the other Death Eaters without a hostage walked forward and took off his mask, revealing himself to be Lucius Malfoy. Harry had a score to settle with him, for nearly getting Ginny killed, and perhaps Malfoy felt the same way for losing his servant. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry had actually hoped to run into the man and settle their unfinished business, but perhaps that was the adrenaline speaking.

Still, there was probably more than a dozen Death Eaters, if they were even all present. Harry and his friends had managed to subdue a few, but even then, with the fresh breakouts from Azkaban, there were more than enough.

"Hand me the prophecy," Lucius said without hiding his disgust. "Do this, and you and your friends can walk away."

"And if I don't?" Harry asked, feeling braver than he should have. He wanted nothing more than to take the prophecy and shove it down Malfoy's throat. He absolutely loathed the man.

"Then you and your friends will die. It will be no great loss, I think. Purging all the Mudbloods and Blood Traitors will only help our world in the long run. It would be a great service to the nation."

Harry paused with indecision, ignoring the jib at his friends. There was no guarantee that even if he did give them the prophecy, that they would escape alive. What was the word of a Death Eater anyway? They were criminals, even if they all didn't get jailed.

"Give me your word that you will let us go unharmed, and it is yours." Harry started to extend the orb out, as he really didn't care about what it said, even if it did involve him. He was sure that it was the weapon that the Order was talking about that Voldemort didn't have last time, and Harry knew quite well that knowledge could be very potent weapon, but it was no use to him if he was dead.

A smile crossed Lucius's face as he extended his hand outward for the orb, and Harry could see Bellatrix snickering, or perhaps she was beginning to overdose on whatever drug she was on. Or the rumors were true, and she was just batshit-crazy.

"You have my word," Malfoy said, and everyone in the room could tell he didn't mean it. A man was only worth as much as his word, so Malfoy was completely worthless in that regard.

"Don't do it, Harry!" Neville shouted before Lucius could pick the orb up. That gave Harry pause, and in that brief lull, the door at the top of the room opened once more, and a new band of witches and wizards flocked in. Robes swirled about as the new arrivals flaunted their wands, poised for action.

The Order had arrived.

And just as the two sides noticed each other for the first time, Harry took action and banished the prophecy sphere right at Malfoy's face. The glass ball smashed into him with the force of a sledgehammer, instantly dropping the ponce. Somehow, the sphere didn't break despite breaking the man's face, but Harry paid no heed to the man once he retrieved it. Wiping the blood off the smooth surface stuffing it deep into his pocket, Harry noticed the severity of the situation.

All at once, the duels began, and Harry regrouped with his friends and tried their best to be forgotten in the chaos. Shacklebolt dueled Mulciber, Tonks dueled Nott, Lestrange dueled Black, and the rest just seemed to be a giant clusterfuck of spells and destruction.

Harry took cover behind a solid stone plinth, doing his best to seem insignificant, and generally succeeding at it. He realized that they were all outmatched, and other than casting a few shield charms and taking pot-shots, they were largely forgotten.

The kind of magic that was being thrown around was awe inspiring, if for nothing else than the sheer splendor of it all. Harry could identify quite a lot of the spells being tossed around, but for every one he knew, there was two he didn't, and that was a sucker punch to the gut to realize that even with all the DA training, he was still nothing more than a student, and the Death Eaters were hardened killers.

As the duels became more and more intense, and more and more frantic, the atmosphere changed. Sirius seemed to love the duel with his cousin. It was probably the most exhilarating thing he had experienced since before his incarceration. The story was likely the same for Bellatrix, and their duel was easily the most chaotic, and spell they hurled was more than enough to incapacitate a stray wizard.

Slowly, the Death Eaters seemed to lose ground. Some of them had not yet completely recovered from Azkaban, and their movement started to become sluggish and they started to make minor mistakes. They were not as young and healthy, or even as motivated as the Order, and one by one, they started to drop.

Bellatrix and Sirius were dueling around the arch, and before Harry had even realized it happen, a blast of red light sped out of Bellatrix's wand and smashed into Sirius, sending him careening through the veil and to never reappear.

Time seemed to move in slow motion, but something within Harry snapped. Lupin was by his side immediately, holding him back and preventing him from chasing after the witch. It had happen so fast, one second there was intense action, and the next, a void in his heart

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black" The deranged bitch chanted. She began to run down the corridor, and something within Harry snapped. He broke free of Remus's arms and rushed passed the remnants of the fight and chased after Bellatrix Lestrange.

She had just killed his godfather, and no force on the planet would stop him from killing her in return. He had never felt such anger in his life, not even against Umbridge, but he would use that to his advantage.

He roared after her, chasing her through a large room with a model of the solar system. He just barely dodged Saturn as its rings nearly gave him a hair cut forcing him to drop to the ground. Bellatrix's aim was just a bit off as he rolled on the ground to avoid her blasts of magic, but the randomness of the room aided in his efforts.

Pulling himself off the ground, he continued to give chase and occasionally toss various fire spells at her, uncaring of the collateral damage. He was consumed with the urge to make her burn, but somehow, even after all the fighting she did, she was still fast enough to give him a good chase.

But, he would not be denied. Room after room he ran through, uncaring of the contents, until finally they hit a long corridor. Bellatrix was right in front of him, not twenty feet away, and the only way out was straight ahead.

"Crucio!" Harry yelled, the sickly bolt of brackish magic smashing into the witch and instantly sending her to the ground. She screamed in pain for a few moments, but the effects of the spell quickly dissipated.

She breathed heavily for a few seconds and gave Harry a crazy, withering, and possibly seductive glare, and that didn't settle well with Harry. She quickly pulled herself up and hid behind a protruding statue. On the top the statue sate a many faceted stone, from which a black, ooze-like substance dripped down and collected at its feet. It was an odd thing, but Harry paid no heed to the little details.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain, to enjoy it! Righteous anger won't hurt me for long! I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson -"

Harry was edging around the large statue as she rambled on when she suddenly screamed -"Crucio!" – forcing him to duck down. He did not want to experience that curse. Just the memory of it in the graveyard made him ache.

Bellatrix was enraged, but Harry's fury was palpable. Something inside him changed, and it showed. He snapped to attention once more, and he caught Bellatrix over-extended. "Crucio!" Harry tried once more, and this time, his anger was very real. He wanted to make her suffer with every bone in his body.

The convict fell instantly, and her body started convulsing as the torture curse wracked her system with unimaginable pain. Harry relished in it as Bellatrix started to rake at her own face, her nails spilling her blood. But Harry did not let up on the curse, instead pouring everything he had into it and even more beyond that. Her screams echoed down the hallway, drowning out the sound of Harry's own screams of fury. The genuine anguish powered his spell even more, until the screams stopped altogether as she yelled herself hoarse.

Harry still did not stop, not until she had stopped moving completely. Only the occasional twitch was indicative that she was still alive. Harry was tempted to put her out of her misery, but there would be no mercy for her today.

Knowing that he had just used an Unforgivable in the heart of the Ministry, Harry realized it would look bad if he found standing over her, so instead he made for the exit. He would have time to contemplate his actions later, but now was the time for running. There was only two ways for him to go – the way he came from, and the way they were heading, and luckily, that door lead to the circular hall of doors.

Of course, if he was found standing over Bellatrix's motionless body, there was a possibility that he would be hailed a hero, again. He didn't want to chance it though, and quickly made for the exit.

Hermione's scorching spell still indicated the proper exit, and in a couple of minutes, Harry was riding the elevator up to the atrium with the prophecy sphere still in his hands. He wasn't even breathing heavily, and his body seemed perfectly relaxed. It was almost as if he was refusing to accept what just happened and was hiding his conscious away with the dull hum of monotony.

An inner fire still burned within him though, and he was almost hoping that he would come across another Death Eater. The incapacitation of Bellatrix was nice and all, but Sirius was still dead.

Harry started to come to his senses though, just about at the time where he came across the Statue of Magical Brethren in the Atrium. He knew he should probably wait for the others to come before leaving, and he noticed that the Ministry was strangely empty at this time. There weren't even any signs of night workers, so Harry didn't think he would be accosted. That wasn't as comforting as he thought it would be.

Then, all at once, something appeared on the edge of his senses, something sinister. Harry turned around quickly, his wand at the ready. At first he saw nothing – then all the warning sirens in Harry's head went off and he dove to the side and took cover.

Unsurprisingly, Voldemort emerged from the shadows, arms outstretched, but with no sign of hostility. Harry had wondered when the snake-faced bastard was going to make an appearance.

"Give me the prophecy, Harry Potter," the Dark Lord said in a soft whisper. "Give it to me and I shall spare your friends this day. Give it to me, and rejoice as I spare those you care about."

"I already heard that one today," Harry retorted. "And then I nearly made Malfoy eat the thing. Your death threats do not scare me."

"Death threats?" Voldemort laughed. The laugh was melodic and it echoed off the walls, but it was also dark and foreboding - it sent chills down Harry's spine. "I do not threaten. I act. I will torture your friends and then feed them to werewolves. If they are lucky, they will be killed. If not, they will be brutally raped, and then their skin will be made into clothing, and then they will be killed. You will be perfectly unharmed and forced to live with the consequences of your choice, forever knowing you had the means to spare them their lives."

Harry gritted his teeth. He didn't have a clue as to what the prophecy held, but Voldemort wanted it, and that was more than enough incentive for him. "If you want the prophecy, you are going to have to kill me to get it. And we all know what happened last time you tried to kill me."

"So be it. Let it never be said that I was not diplomatic," Voldemort said with no hint of anger. He was utterly devoid of emotion. "I will take no pleasure in crushing you."

His wand was in his hands swiftly, but Harry's was already pointing at him before he finished his evil villainous monologue. "Incendio!" Harry shouted, causing massive gouts of flame to pour out from his wand. It dripped fire as it soared at Voldemort, like ever-burning napalm and just as majestic.

Voldemort had dispelled the fire completely before it even got within twenty feet of him, and immediately countered with a plethora of sour-looking Disintegrating Hexes which would have turned a limb into dust – or worse.

Harry nimbly dodged out of the way, still not to the point of panicking, and allowed himself to cast a counter while in the process of dodging. His arsenal was limited, but the spells he did know, he knew how to use very well. A Leg-locking Jinx wasn't much on its own, but when a volley of them are cast, it takes only one to make a person stumble, and enough to give Harry a small edge.

It' wasn't meant to be. Voldemort would not be defeated by playground spells, and all it took was a deft flick of the wrist and all the magic disappeared, and another flick of the wrist had Harry spiraling onto the ground and nearly breaking several bones in the process. The flow of the battle had changed quickly.

All that happened in a few seconds, and Harry just didn't have the raw talent and skill to match the seventy year old Dark Lord. And relying on luck to survive an encounter was just asking for trouble.

Harry would not give up though. He quickly rolled off to the side and behind the statue, even as bright, silver light pierced through it and missed him by inches. He quickly pulled himself off the ground and cast the same spell back at Voldemort. He didn't think he knew the spell, but somewhere in the back of his mind he did. Either way, there was a quick chant from Voldemort, and the silver light was refracted up onto the surface of the ceiling above them, where it exploded in a shower of sparks and caused some of the bricks to fall down where Harry was standing.

Voldemort actually laughed at Harry's pathetic attempt at replicating the spell. His laugh was quite unsettling, and Harry understood then that half the battle was physiological, but that realization would do him little good in the after-effects of a spell exchange.

Again, Harry nimbly dodged, ignoring the shards of glass that dug into his skin as he avoided the falling rocks. A quick series of flicks from his wand sent the stone careening over towards Voldemort, who flung up an orange shield in response that burned up all the stone into dust. Then, another flick of Voldemort's wand transformed the dust into a miniature dragon, which soared at Harry and breathed dusty fire-breathe. The transfiguration was so quick and seamless that it made Harry pause in fear for the first time.

"Aquamenti!" Harry threw on reflex, causing the fine stone particles to turn into a clump of mud and splash into the ground. The water spell didn't quite act like he thought, as much of it turned to steam before it even hit the mud. Perhaps his anger –or fear- was affecting his casting. Regardless, a quick vanishing spell removed the mud, ensuring it couldn't be used against him again.

A spirited gust of wind followed up the vanishing spell, strong enough to knock over a tree, but barely enough to do more than rustle Voldemort's robe as he looked on in amusement. He was completely unphased by the events so far.

All at once the smile faded from Voldemort as it turned into a malicious smirk, the first true emotion he had shown. Voldemort pointed his wand at the ground, and whipped it as if he was yanking a fishing pole. An ominous sound of rocks splitting greeted his ears only seconds before the ground exploded all around them.

It was a localized earthquake, or perhaps a shockwave, and before Harry could even think of dodging it, a lance of stone burst out of the ground and impaled him through the stomach.

It all happened so fast, and dodging an earthquake would be a daunting task for anyone. The pain of the stony lance through his stomach was overwhelming, but he didn't scream for more than two seconds after it happened.

Anger clouded his mind once more, interlaced with disbelief, dulling the pain which would have crippled anyone. He tapped the stony needle with his wand and uttered an incantation that caused it to disintegrate. He didn't know why he did it, as now he was bleeding from a significant hole, and mostly likely would die within a few minutes. At least he wasn't impaled anymore though, which was a plus.

He fell onto his hands and knees, but was undaunted. There was a time for pain, and that was when he was dead. He wouldn't die without a fight. He gritted his teeth once more as he turned his wand on himself, incanting another fire spell and doing his best to cauterize the wound. It sort of worked, but not really. His blood stopped spilling out onto the ground, but he was no closer to not dying than before.

Seeing his blood spilt did give him an idea, and with a deft flick of his wand, he banished it at Voldemort, and with a partial twist, it exploded into flame. He knew he was going to die within minutes, but he'd do his best to bring down Voldemort with him.

Voldemort was quick to erect a shield, snarling in surprise that Harry was still able to cast spells, and snarling in even more surprise when the fire punctured through the shield and splashed onto his clothes.

Before the fire could do any more than slightly char the skin, it was dissolved in the air by Voldemort's wand. Harry didn't waste any time in preparing a follow up spell, but Voldemort didn't waste a single movement either. Just as the fire disappeared, a bubbled appeared from the tip of the wand and smashed into Harry even faster than the earthquake did. Just as Harry thought he gained momentum, it was quickly ripped away.

The bubble knocked Harry all the way into a pillar nearly fifty feet away, and if that wasn't enough, it also ate at Harry's skin as if it were an acid. Harry's stomach wound also re-opened up and he began to bleed out, unable to stop it. It took all the effort Harry had to even keep his eyes open. He knew once he closed them, he would die.

Voldemort didn't smirk, or show any emotion at all, as he approached Harry's prone form. He looked deadly serious and quite focused. Harry saw him raise his wand, watched his lips move, and saw the flash of light, but nothing happened.

The spell was deflected off the chest of one of the golden statues, transfigured courtesy of Albus Dumbledore, and into the ceiling. He was a sight for sore eyes, even dressed in his sky blue robe with crescent moons and with his trademark glasses.

"You shouldn't have come here today, Tom," the elderly headmaster said as he emerged into view. He took one look at Harry, frowned, and then turned his attention back to Voldemort.

"And why is that, old man?" Voldemort said with no small amount of distaste. "I've been getting stronger all these years, and you grow old and feeble while your power wanes."

"I may be old, Tom, but I was defeating Dark Lords before you were born. I still have more than enough fight in old these bones to defeat you."

"I know magic that not even you can dream of, Dumbledore. I will have my revenge, and then I will have the world. You will not stand in my way. Just look at what happened to Potter."

"Picking on teenagers now, Tom?" Dumbledore said while taking another glance at Harry. He saw the Harry still breathed, but he had to be quick if he wanted to save him. "Your quarrel lies with me now. I too, have picked up a few new tricks. You will not find me an easy opponent, Tom."

Voldemort wasted no time in beginning the fight. A flick of his wand and a flash of green soared through the air, but was quickly blocked by a piece of stone. Dumbledore barely even moved, that's how confidant he was in his ability. Not many could stare death in the face and not even blink, and Harry was already in awe of the man. He was a legend, and seeing him in action would be an acceptable way to die in his opinion.

Another killing curse crossed the distance, and again, it was stopped with minimal effort. This time, Harry watched as Dumbledore twirled his wand in return, sending out a myriad of colors into the room. Red for fire, blue for ice, green for acid, and the color web spread out through the room, threatening to consume anything it touched.

Voldemort faltered for a second before pointing his wand at the ground and pulling up a huge cylindrical slab which he hid in as the colors swelled. Dumbledore was quick to send a blasting curse at the slab, but Voldemort had predicted as much and was already out of it and into the air, transfiguring the newly blown up rock as he landed over the streaming fire. His timing was absolutely perfect, having dodged the color spray and the follow up without fault.

A series of flying creatures were created from the stone, such as fire breathing bats, but Dumbledore was no slouch in the transfiguration compartment. In fact, he _was _Voldemort's superior in that regard. Dumbledore shifted all of the flying animals into a single flying, frost breathing alligator, and the thing managed to close the distance in a second, missing biting the Dark Lord's face off by a few inches.

Harry sighed in disappointment. Dumbledore was so close, yet just not close enough, to ending the fight right there. There was the slightest glimmer of hope in his future – if anyone could save him in the upcoming minutes, it was Dumbledore. He just hoped it was sooner, rather than later.

The Dark Lord ducked and slid off to the side, as if on ice due to an unseen spell, and quickly sent a black cleaving curse through the center of the alligator.

Dumbledore pressed his advantage and transfigured the two falling pieces into two watery unicorns, intent on disemboweling the man. Dumbledore knew how to play to his strengths, and Harry was quite sure that there was no one in the world better at transfiguration than the headmaster. Mist drifted off the unicorns as they charged, and Voldemort was quick to offer the obvious solution.

Fire blossomed off the tip of his wand, not for the first time that day (and probably not the last) and consumed the beasts. But instead of evaporating them, they crystallized into hard water, which surprised Voldemort. Fire wasn't always the answer.

A blackened Blasting Hex smashed both of the unicorns, but Dumbledore was way ahead of him, playing on his momentum. The banishing charm had already caught the jagged pieces and hurled them at Voldemort. To Harry watching, the fight looked like little more than a chess game to Dumbledore, with him thinking a dozen moves ahead, and preparing contingencies for any possible reaction. It was as much academic as it was a fight to the death, and it had been too long since Dumbledore had a real duel. Harry could see the elder wizard enjoying the fight, just as he had enjoyed torturing Bellatrix not that long ago.

Voldemort managed to dispelled most of the serrated shards, but a good dozen spiked themselves into his chest. That seemed to anger him more than hurt him - although he still faltered a few steps - but was cognizant enough to dodge Dumbledore's gravity blast.

The Dark Lord managed to spare a second to grasp at the shadows on the wall – much to Harry's amazement - and _tossed_them at Dumbledore in an inky cyclone. Harry could feel the despair pouring off the shadows in waves, but if Dumbledore felt the same thing, he made no outward signs. Voldemort was very quick, and although the wizened headmaster was twice his age, he was just as quick.

Dumbledore twirled his wand again, muttering a long string of incantations under his breath. A lull filled the room, briefly, before a sheet wall of water rushed out from him in an arc, expanding from wall to wall and to the ceiling. Then, with a shout, the water surged across the room and washed away the shadows, leaving both of the wizards panting, and Harry watching with mouth agape in awe.

The Headmaster didn't let up on his assault and followed the water up with a jet of sparkling, purple fire. It was so bright that it nearly burned Harry's retinas out, and both the mages cast some sort of charm on their eyes.

Voldemort decided to fight fire with a fire, and with a large sweep of wand ending with a delicate flair, black flames burst from his wand and seemed to use the very _light _as its fuel. The purple flames all but winked out of existence in a matter of seconds, and a smug look came across Voldemort's face as his flames continue to grow and devour all the light in the room.

Dumbledore was not out of tricks though, not even close. He held his wand up to his throat, and after a brief incantation that sounded like gibberish, a wailing noise came from his lips, unlike anything Harry had ever heard before. It was almost too high pitch to hear, and Harry heard the sound of breaking glass more than he heard the spell.

The actual spell though, that was something else. In spite of it feeling like it was melting his brain, it extinguished all of black flames Voldemort had conjured in a spectacular show of flickering anti-light. Harry visibly watched Dumbledore's face as he looked at Voldemort, and he could tell the headmaster found his old student lacking. Dumbledore was unimpressed, but Harry realized that Voldemort had been toying with him, and that he never stood a chance of winning.

A snarl crossed Voldemort's face, one of pure hatred. With a silent incantation, Voldemort disappeared into a wisp of smoke that floated hazily over towards Dumbledore. The headmaster was no slouch and recognized what he was doing, and quickly cast a shield of pure white that encased him like a cocoon.

Voldemort's smoky form bounced off the shield and veered off to the next target: Harry. Dumbledore realized this, but a second too late, and his next spell had no effect upon the smoke. He watch in horror as the smoke poured right into Harry's scar and into his head. He realized that Voldemort had played him and played at his one weakness – others.

Voldemort wanted to finish Harry off once and for all, and he thought him to be easy prey in his fatally wounded state. Voldemort knew he would not die from that would, but it made the possession much easier.

It was like nothing Harry had ever felt. It was a form of agony that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once, overwhelming him with lightheadedness. The closest feeling Harry could relate to that was that of the Imperius Curse, and that was only because he heard whisperings in his head. It sort of sounded like Voldemort, but it was quite muted, although no less painful.

It was even more painful than the stomach wound he suffered, but then he realized it wasn't him screaming. The screams were coming from his mouth, but it was Voldemort. There was also another voice in the back of his head - perhaps his subconscious - that reared its head at the foreign presence. Its mental fury was like nothing Harry had ever felt, and he was almost overwhelmed during it.

Time seemed to slow down as the incorporeal form of Voldemort poured out of his brain in reverse. It was quite unsettling, as if someone took a plunger to his ear and started pumping. Even as the presence exited his head, he could still hear the psychic scream echoing through the room.

The shadow-like Dark Lord seemed to drip a black essence onto the ground as he floated away, still howling in pain. It was like psychic stain upon the world, and as Voldemort's spell ended and he regained human form, it was clear that it was his blood.

The Dark Lord was bleeding out the eyes, ears, mouth, nose, and even from his fingernails. Harry didn't want to know where else he was bleeding from, but it had to be painful. Harry felt worse though.

Voldemort took one look at Harry and Dumbledore and uttered one ominous phrase before leaving. "This isn't over. I will have my revenge, if not this day, then tomorrow!"

Then, he was gone. The silence was unsettling, but all seemed safe.

Dumbledore, satisfied that Voldemort was no longer at the Ministry, hurried over to Harry quickly, casting several spells in the process. Harry's stomach wound had already healed up somehow, but he was still in rough condition. His face was quite badly burned, and his eyes were in a lot of pain from the purple flare spell. "My dear boy," Dumbledore muttered. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

A golden aura washed over Harry, putting him in a stasis and preventing further damage. Dumbledore shoved a Portkey quickly into Harry's hands, and with a flick of his wrist, the boy was gone.

And it was not a second too soon, but perhaps it was a few minutes too late. The Aurors had arrived, along with many Ministry personnel, including the Minister himself. It was time for Albus to play damage control, and to make sure his Order members were safe… assuming they didn't immediately attack him and blame him for all the damage.

It was going to be a long night for Dumbledore, since his true battle had only just begun.


End file.
